Foreward by: April Aguirre
I came across this article by Iman Mehdizadeh on AkhbarIran.com, while researching arranged marriages. It involved the marriage of two very young children, the groom, twelve, and the bride, a mere six years of age. Initially, I was appalled, but decided to delve further into the article before spawning a close minded judgment. Yes, the two children were marrying for reasons involved with tradition, as the father of the bride, Ahmad, informed us that a girl in Afghan culture should not be at home beyond the age of 14. But everything that Ahmad mentioned regarding custom seemed more forced than believed. What really seemed to be bringing these two young kids together in a union for life were the social conditions surrounding the family. At the time it was rumored that Afghan people might be forced to leave Iran. Ahmad, born in Afghanistan, had made his home in Iran; his life was plagued with burdens, but the situation was better than it would ever be in his native homeland. His children, nieces and nephews were citizens of Iran; that was their home. This, more than tradition, more than anything, struck me as the core motivation behind the arranged promise ceremony. This young father’s love for his daughter and future of his loved ones moved him to do something inconceivable in many of our eyes - join his 6-year-old child with his twelve-year-old nephew. Hopefully, this love will be the cause of the great future he so adamantly hoped to secure, and not the cause of a destiny his child cannot escape.
All images courtesy of Hadi Mokhtarian
It is the last Friday of Ordibehesht in Shahrood and on the corner of Abashar Avenue, a green door leads to the clatter of music, laughter, friends and relatives, sounds so loud that the poverty and plainness of the house is quickly washed out by the flamboyance found in the joy. The festivities are in full effect, but there is still one thing missing. The young couple to be wed has not yet arrived; word has it that the freshly shaved youth has gone to pick up his soon-to-be bride from the beauty salon.
At long last, a white car covered in flowers pulls up to the humble dwelling and opens its doors. First, two formally dressed children make their way out of the car and head for the house. Then, we realize no one else is coming out of that car. Meet 12-year-old Gol Agha and 6-year-old Maryam Mohamadi, husband and wife.
Three days after the celebration, we become better acquainted with the wedding party. Ahmad Mohamadi, Maryam’s father, is just 28 years old, but his face wears the age of one who has lived nearly 40. The father of the bride has been living in Shahrood for the past 16 years. He was a refugee then, but is now a resident. He leaves Harat, Afghanistan and comes to Iran when war gets serious. Since then, he has been living and working in Shahrood with his sister, but does not know much about the status of his other relatives, “Maryam is from my first wife who died in a fire, God bless her. I remarried and now it’s four of us, plus my sister’s family of ten. So, fourteen altogether living in four rooms; we can hardly manage with the salary I pull in every month. He goes over to Maryam and hugs her, “This girl is the love of my life. I am willing to give her all that I have. Before she was born, I told my sister that her son would marry Maryam one day. Now, the promise has just been recognized formally. With the ceremony they belong to each other - a fate filled with celebration and happiness.”
But why commit the two children at such a young and vulnerable age? “It was not so soon, Ahmad replies, “we wanted them to know that they are to be together. Of course, the reason I had a rather expensive celebration is because of the rumors we heard about Afghan people being forced to move back to Harat. We are used to living here in the city. Back in Harat, there is no electricity, water or school. It would be very difficult for us. All our friends are Iranian; we have very few Afghan acquaintances or relatives. If I have a problem or need money, I can find a solution much easier here because of my friends. I do not know anyone in Afghanistan and our children are citizens of Iran; I do not want the kids to be forced out of here. The reason I am so sensitive toward Maryam’s future is because I was away from her for 8 months. After the fire and my wife’s death, I was in the hospital myself for a few months and I went to jail after that because of a law suit my wife’s parents had filed against me. During that time, I realized that I needed to plan her future soon.”
Gol Algha, the groom, enters the room. His small but manly fingers open the curtain as he makes his way in. He is slender and tall. The sun has darkened his face. He sits next to his uncle, also his father-in-law, on the floor. We ask Gol to tell us about himself and he mentions that he is twelve years old, in the fourth grade and he is the president of his class. His teacher thinks him one of the best students; in discipline, school work and all other areas he is not any different from the Iranian students - he has Iranian culture and understanding. Gol says that his hobbies are different from kids his own age, “I love soccer, but I cannot play much because I don’t have time. I have to go to work everyday.” He sells ‘Shansee’ in the street. “My salary is 1000 toomans a day. I don’t know what I want to do in the future. Maybe I’ll be a teacher. My essay last semester was about teachers.” Gol mentions that his duties of the house include shopping for bread and vegetables.
A 6-years-old girl wearing a black shirt and pants, with equally dark hair and shiny eyes, is standing next to the door. “This is the bride,” says Gol of the lively girl, now sitting and laughing quietly with Gol’s sister of the same age. She is eager to converse, “My name is Maryam. I am six years old. I know how to write ‘Ab’ (water) and ‘Baba’ (father). I like dolls but I’ve never had one. I like to play hide and seek with my friends, Mah Shirin and Atefeh Saemee. We are all in the same class at school. Mah Shirin is Gol Agha’s sister.” Mah Shirin interrupts, “The flowers on the car were red and white. I am very happy that Maryam got married. They made her hair very nice. Her dress was white. She looked so beautiful. My mom bought her that dress. I love Maryam and we never fight. We play hide and seek.”
Maryam says Gol is kind and goes to work for them. The groom is now sitting next to his young wife and says that he gives his money every night to his mother. She used the money to make the celebration possible. We don’t have the opportunity to speak with Gol’s parents, since his father is working and his mother has gone to visit an uncle in the hospital.
We ask Ahmad, instead, for his opinion, “Gol Agha loves Maryam even more than his own brother and sisters. Whenever he buys something, he gives it to her rather than the others. He is a good boy and a good student.” Say, for a moment, that the two kids genuinely feel for one another, what will happen when they grow older? What will come about when the children grow up and are, perhaps, unhappy with the family’s decision?
Ahmad becomes annoyed at this sudden questioning regarding his daughter, “As long as she is alive, a girl needs to live with her husband. The tradition says that the father of the bride can change a promise that is already made, but the girl cannot. If the groom turns out to be unworthy, it is another issue. No father wants that for his daughter. The good thing about our tradition is that no marriage ends in divorce. When they are meant to live together, they do it and never complain about anything either.”
Before we leave, Maryam continues chatting about her elaborate wedding and, more importantly, adds more about herself, “I want to be a teacher. I can make omelettes. I know that bread costs 10 tooman. I love Gol.”
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The good thing about our tradition is that no marriage ends in divorce. When they are meant to live together, they do it and never complain about anything either. "
